


Like Love Upon My Lips

by Sk3tch



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous Efforts, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Genitals Are Not Specified (Good Omens), Bathroom Sex, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is a Gooey Boy (Good Omens), Crowley's Genitals Are Not Specified (Good Omens), D20Owlbear and Sevdrag's MonsterFucker Bingo 2021, He/Him pronouns for both, Implied/offscreen, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Slime, Smut, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sk3tch/pseuds/Sk3tch
Summary: Every so often, Crowley would… well, there was really no other word for it, but,ooze.His skin would take on such a sallow tone, and soon enough tiny beads would form on his forehead, all over his skin. To anyone else, it might appear as if he were sweating, but if they continued to watch they would see the dampness didn’t roll quickly down Crowley’s skin like normal perspiration ought. No, this semi-transparent layer would seep, slow and thick, spreading outwards like melting caramel until it became a viscous pile of goo around him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53
Collections: MoFu Bingo 2021





	Like Love Upon My Lips

**Author's Note:**

> It's bingo BABBYYY, you know I can't resist. XD So... how bout that slime? 
> 
> Anyway, beyond this point there be slime and very messy smut. Like... just so messy. Goo everywhere. Shout out to [IsleofSolitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude) for giving this a quick beta read and the endless encouragement! <3 I hope you all enjoy!

If Crowley kept this up, they were going to have to talk.

It wasn’t so much the slime, as much as where the slime was going, and what it could do once there. Aziraphale might not want to actually sell any of his books, but that didn’t mean he wanted them ruined either.

Aziraphale looked at his usually lovely partner, and tried not to sigh as he watched a small puddle at the demon’s elbow creep closer to a stack of Woolf’s. The smoke-swirled slime had already melted through a Wilde earlier, and he was in no hurry for a repeat. Sigh winning out, he took his glasses off and marked the page before clearing his throat. When he glanced back up he saw Crowley was staring at him, scowl already in place.

“Let’s have it then.”

“Dear, I really don’t mind you being over when you’re in this state, as I’ve told you before...”

“But?”

“...but,” Aziraphale got up and gave him a small frown, “a little more conscientiousness when it comes to your astral drippings _would_ be appreciated.” He pointedly picked up the books, very nearly about to be rendered unrepairable, and moved them to a different table. 

With his back to Crowley, Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a sharp breath. He did hate when he became so short with Crowley. It wasn’t Crowley’s fault this happened, after all. It just seemed like every time it did, Crowley lost all semblance of decency and leaned into his misery until the very last of his woes leaked out of him. 

Still, Aziraphale knew his tone wasn’t helping, and for that he was sorry.

Behind him, he heard Crowley sigh and mumble out an apology. A wet snap sounded, and when Aziraphale turned back around, he saw the accumulated puddle of gunk had gone. He knew it wouldn’t last for long, a slight sheen already appearing on Crowley’s exposed skin, but he appreciated the gesture.

Every so often, Crowley would… well, there was really no other word for it, but, _ooze_. His skin would take on such a sallow tone, and soon enough tiny beads would form on his forehead, all over his skin. To anyone else, it might appear as if he were sweating, but if they continued to watch they would see the dampness didn’t roll quickly down Crowley’s skin like normal perspiration ought. No, this semi-transparent layer would seep, slow and thick, spreading outwards like melting caramel until it became a viscous pile of goo around him.

It didn’t hurt him, or Aziraphale, but it was rather annoying. 

Not only was the timing of these occurrences unreliable, oftentimes cropping up to ruin mutual plans, they had side effects. As a demon whose main job was to tempt, it seemed (as unappealing as it should be) this was another attribute to aid with his wiles. 

Whenever Crowley was like this, no matter how many miracles he used to cover up the fact he was leaving a messy trail wherever he walked, if he went out by humans it was almost certainly guaranteed to end in disaster.

To put it simply, they lost their minds.

It was like something akin to pheromones, as far as Aziraphale could tell. Being in proximity to the secretions made humans more willing to give in to temptations, to base wants. They would gorge themselves with extravities, let anger win out and do unspeakable things; they would lose their inhibitions and _lust_ like nothing before. Never toward Crowley himself, thank goodness, but toward each other with such a degree that was... alarming.

The first few times it happened, Crowley used it to his advantage, getting a whole year’s worth of general temptations done in a week. But the more it happened, the more Aziraphale saw it wore on him; Crowley even admitting how inelegant he thought it was. 

Aziraphale knew Crowley didn’t mind doing some of the tasks Hell set for him, he was good at them too, but Crowley liked when it was a choice. When the humans gave in to his purr of suggestions because they actively chose to do so, not because they caught a whiff of ‘occult soup’ and lost their higher powers of operational thought. 

Crowley might be a demon, but he also had standards, even if he wouldn’t say as much out loud.

So for the last few millennia, Crowley had opted to simply stay inside at his during these bouts, out of the public eye. Or, on a few rare occasions, had come over to Aziraphale’s (at his insistence) for the company. Crowley, though he’d never acknowledge it, was a social creature, he liked interacting with the humans, found them fascinating. So to have to cut himself off from them left him in a terrible mood when he was already so miserable. Entertaining him for a week, while also closing the shop for as long, was really the least Aziraphale could do. And besides, Aziraphale liked having Crowley over, even when he was a sticky, petulant mess.

It had only ever been for sociable company, before, however. But looking at Crowley now, Aziraphale’s hands twitched at his sides. The newness of their ability to be together, to offer comforting touches and to soothe thrummed strongly through him. 

Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley, who was no longer sprawled in his usual fashion after being reprimanded. Now, he sat upright in a tight, arm-crossed position that attempted to take up as little room as possible. It made Aziraphale’s heart lurch. Their mutual stubbornness might just yet be the ruination of them both.

He shook his head and walked back to the couch, but instead of passing by to continue to his chair, Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley. He hesitantly reached out, hand lingering for a moment in the air, before decidedly cupping Crowley’s cheek and swiping a thumb over a sharp cheekbone; feeling it glide from the barely visible layer starting to rise to the surface again.

“Darling, I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know you wouldn’t purposefully harm my belongings.” He skimmed his fingers down Crowley’s neck to settle into the short hairs along the nape, massaging the tense muscles there. At first he held still, but after a few minutes Aziraphale felt Crowley relax into the touch and lean his slightly tacky self against him.

“Nnnnh, no, no you’re right. Could be a little more.. _mmm_ conscientious.” 

Aziraphale hummed, kissing into Crowley’s hair and turning him around until the demon was situated against his chest. He made a noise of protest, something about Aziraphale’s clothes getting ruined, but he quieted Crowley with another kiss to his crown and a squeezing hug around his middle. If he did ruin his clothing then that was his choice. 

Besides, if the stain was because of Crowley, it would be worth always knowing it was there.

Slowly, he removed one hand from the hug and started rubbing circles against Crowley’s middle, like he would usually do when Crowley was upset. Absent minded rings, over and over, feeling him melt backward into Aziraphale, as if trying to merge with him.

This time, however, the clothes slid wetly under hand, and Aziraphale felt something shift in him. His mind abruptly shooting past the innocent comfort he’d intended to give Crowley, to more indecent places. 

Something about the slow drag of clothes, flowing and tugging over Crowley’s body, brought to mind long nights of fists clenching in sweat-soaked sheets. It was alarmingly easy for his head to supply the image of Crowley bare beneath him, writhing in a pool of his own fluids as Aziraphale’s hands slid through the ooze; feeling the demon’s pleasure, leaving wells in the slick where his fingers raked back down.

Heart pumping, he trembled at the sudden thoughts, his whole frame giving the smallest of shakes around the demon in his arms. 

A small hitch of breath ending in a moan met his ears, and Aziraphale snapped back to the present. He became aware of the dampness of Crowley’s clothing beginning to seep through his own, a cool wetness pooling around his effort. He didn’t mean to grind against Crowley, hugged sweetly to him as he were, but he did, and a second, deeper moan made him drop his head against Crowley’s shoulder, breaths coming a little too fast.

With everything that had led up to the Armageddon-That-Wasn’t, and the resulting elations of success that followed, Aziraphale hadn’t even thought about Crowley’s… goo. It had been several years since the last episode, a bit before they became godparents of sorts. So he hadn’t even considered what could happen now, what the protocols were between them. Because this was the first time Crowley’s issue had come up since they’d formed their own side, since they had finally acknowledged their mutual feelings of _wanting_ the other in whatever way possible. 

Since they’d become intimate.

In the past, they never touched more than was necessary, so Aziraphale’s contact with Crowley’s slime was limited. They both knew he wasn’t as affected by it, like the humans were, but Aziraphale would be lying if he said he wasn’t affected at all. Although, he could hardly blame the slime for that, could he?

He had always wanted Crowley, that was a fact. And he would continue to want Crowley in any way possible until they should both discorporate for the last time.

But he didn’t want to overstep. They’d never discussed being intimate like this. And yet, the tight grip on Aziraphale’s hand suggested the desires might not be just one-sided. He swallowed. Well, perhaps, they ought to explore that. Aziraphale picked his words carefully before speaking, cheek pressed softly against Crowley’s hair.

“My dear. I think, perhaps we should reconvene elsewhere. If... you’re amenable?” 

He hoped Crowley would understand his meaning, the pattern of Aziraphale only ever suggesting they ‘reconvene’ when their affections were getting heavy-handed and Aziraphale preferred the privacy of his bedroom over the open floor plan of the shop. When Crowley sat up and turned toward him, Aziraphale knew he had. The eyes that looked back at him were not just hungry, but full of an emotion deeper than Aziraphale could name. 

_“Yes.”_

Aziraphale smiled and got up, taking Crowley’s moist hand in his. They climbed the stairs together and Aziraphale led them to the bathroom, closing the door behind them with a soft click. Normally he would have taken them to his bed, but given Crowley’s current physiology, the tiles seemed a better choice than the carpeting and linens.

They’d had relations in here before of course; time well spent in the heat and steam of the shower that sometimes occupied the space or in the bathtub, learning each other’s bodies as well as they knew their own. And Crowley, as clever and cunning as he was, could obviously see Aziraphale’s reasoning, smirking under a quick kiss.

Silently, Aziraphale left Crowley to undress himself, while he filled the grand bathtub with warm water and pleasant scents. He hummed, listening to each article of clothing hit the floor, and when he faced Crowley again, it was to his gloriously nude figure, dripping like he had already come from the bath.

The sight made Aziraphale shiver.

“Mmmm, have I told you lately how stunning you are?” He walked close, circling Crowley like he often did to Aziraphale, and smiled at the blush that rose underneath the transparent sheen.

“‘M not. ‘M all slimy.” But he said it softly, half hearted. Putting forth only the bare minimum to his protests over Aziraphale’s praise which made Aziraphale smile.

“Hmm, well I think you are, deliciously so.” Aziraphale stopped his prowling and stood in front of Crowley, placing the demon’s hands on top of his clothed hips while he continued to drink his fill of Crowley’s beautiful form. 

The shine reminded Aziraphale of the early Olympics, of men shining with oil, grappling each other for victory. At the time he’d made sure not to meet Crowley’s eyes, not trusting what his own would reveal. Now... now Aziraphale met those golden eyes unflinchingly as he ran a hand over his glistening chest, his stomach, feeling the muscles flutter beneath his finger tips. He _wanted_ Crowley to see how hungry he was for him. At a small whine, Aziraphale’s restraint broke and he snapped, joining Crowley in his nudity.

Crowley’s hands eagerly roved over him then, clearly more willing to return his affections once Aziraphale’s clothing was out of the way. It made Aziraphale exhale softly. Crowley was always looking out for him and his things, always so careful. The thought never failed to leave Aziraphale light-headed. He tugged Crowley into a hug, resting his head at the junction of Crowley’s neck, kissing the skin. His lips tingled with the contact and he giggled, feeling Crowley huff a laugh at him.

“Thought we were taking a bath, angel.” 

Aziraphale purred into his ear, nosing up along Crowley’s sensitive sigil.

“All in good time, my love.” His hands continued moving through the slick covering Crowley, the smooth sensation of sliding skin going straight to his effort. He could feel the nerve endings light up as he shifted, moving them around in an approximation of a slow dance, getting their limbs positioned just right to give them both glorious, wet friction.

When Aziraphale finally settled a hand over Crowley’s effort, the way was slick and easy. Crowley gasped at the touch, and Aziraphale smiled into his shoulder. He began rubbing lazily over the skin, listening to the little whimpers and huffs his touch brought.

“Oh Crowley, how lovely you are.”

His hands came to rest on Crowley’s hips, canting them rhythmically over Aziraphale’s own solid thigh. Back and forth, down, slipping against each other with lewd squelches filling the room. The heat and the obscene sounds had him groaning, chasing his own friction against Crowley. Like a feedback loop, their writhings fed each other, their actions growing more desperate.

Every time they had come together in this sense, Aziraphale felt overwhelmed in the best way possible. Their love making never felt rushed or wild, even considering the times each of them let go in the bedroom and... _took._ Even then, it never lost the strong undertone of love, of tenderness. 

It was everything he’d always imagined being with Crowley would be like, and more.

Only slightly aware he was doing so, Aziraphale backed them up to the door, until Crowley was flat against it. His full yellow eyes gazed back at him, half-lidded, mouth open in question. Aziraphale closed the distance and kissed him. He kissed him until he felt the slide of heavy wetness running down his neck, and then he broke away to smile.

Their exertions were making the ooze flow more heavily, and when Aziraphale reached to brush back Crowley’s hair, it stayed slicked into place as if he’d gelled it. He slid his hand down Crowley’s cheek until he was softly holding his chin. With a twinkle in his eye, Aziraphale kissed Crowley once more on the nose before speaking, voice so low it was a growl.

“Hold tight.”

As he lowered to his knees in front of Crowley, he took the other’s shaking hands and carded them into his own hair. He did not want something as ridiculous as Crowley slipping and falling to ruin this moment. When he felt the fingers grab on to the proffered anchor, Aziraphale lowered his mouth onto Crowley’s effort, lapping at the wet mess collecting there in thick gobs. 

The flavor burst across Aziraphale’s tongue and he groaned in ecstasy. It was something mellow between spiced pecans and a sweet cider, the smoky undertones familiar; like the natural flavor Crowley’s skin usually held, just amplified by the excessive fluids. He brought his hands up to hold Crowley’s hips still and drink his fill, the goo oozing through the spaces of his fingers to run down his forearms decadently.

Aziraphale knew, in this moment, he’d never have another first taste of anything _in his life_ that could ever compare. 

He hummed as a tug at his scalp told him how close Crowley already was to his first orgasm. Oh, and that was a thought, Aziraphale mused through his own hazy pleasure, working his tongue faster. How many times he might make Crowley come before he looked for his own release. He lowered a hand to idly stroke himself and continued to take Crowley apart.

***

He didn’t know how long he stayed on his knees, losing count of the number of times Crowley keened and cried, and came beneath him. He only knew when Crowley finally dropped a hand from Aziraphale’s dripping hair, there was a significant puddle on the tiles around them. 

Looking up, Crowley’s gaze made Aziraphale wonder if he were having his own bout of ethereal slime, the way his heart felt like it was melting. He stood, carefully so as not to slip himself, and took Crowley’s weight in his arms, slowly guiding them to the bath still waiting for them at the perfect temperature.

He carefully helped Crowley in first, miracling a rail on the wall so Crowley could steady himself while Aziraphale climbed in behind him. Once settled, they were once again back to front, Aziraphale running circles over Crowley’s abdomen. Slow and steady, relaxing. A welcome comfort for them both.

After a bit, Aziraphale miracled a flannel and started cleaning them. He knew it wouldn’t last with Crowley’s condition, he still had days left in this secreting state, but it was a familiar pattern for them. Aftercare, he’d read it called once on an online article. Something to keep them connected after such a vulnerable experience, to let them bask in their afterglows and gradually return to reality. 

Eventually he hummed, satisfied when the cloth no longer trailed any stringy bits when he pulled it away, miracling the water clean again and moving Crowley back in place against him. Since entering the room, Crowley had been quiet, happy to let Aziraphale take the reins. Now, his hand skimmed over Aziraphale’s thigh under the water, and he had turned his head to nose against Aziraphale’s neck. He was smiling, and that made Aziraphale smile as he twisted his head to kiss him.

“Well, that was a thing.”

“Truly.” He kissed Crowley soundly and leaned back onto the edge of the tub, tempting himself with a little kip in the warm water with an even warmer body pressed against him.

“Never knew my ‘astral drippings’ would get you so hot and bothered, angel.”

Aziraphale cracked a heavy lid to look at him, smiling at the sincere surprise written across his demon’s face.

“Crowley, darling,” He slipped a hand below the water and trailed it up and down Crowley’s spine tantalisingly, “I’m not sure there _is_ anything about you that doesn’t get me ‘hot and bothered’, as you say.” Aziraphale accentuated his point by grabbing a palmful of Crowley’s arse and winking.

“NGK! Well,” Crowley said as he twisted in the tub to straddle Aziraphale and look down the bridge of his slightly dripping nose, “Guess we’ll have to try some more things then, hmm? There’s got to be something you don’t like.” He paused, letting the sentiment hang before he lowered his head. Slowly, Crowley circled Aziraphale’s nipple with an elongated tongue he’d not possessed seconds before, and then covered the sensitive skin with his mouth and sucked. 

Aziraphale moaned, head falling back against the porcelain and he smiled.

“Impossible my dear, _impossible.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Congrats, you've officially been slimed. XD Thank you for reading! Obligatory, 'Comments and Kudos are forever cherished' because, indeed they are. I hoard every last one of them for rainy days. I hope you have a nice rest of your day and I'm glad you stopped by! If anyone wants to chat, I lurk on the [tumbles](https://sk3tchid.tumblr.com/). :)


End file.
